


By Water, Be Saved

by Cuda (Scylla)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Baptism, Demon Blood, Demon Blood Addiction, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, M/M, Protective Castiel, Ritual Sex, Rough Sex, Sam's Adventures in Self Loathing, Sastiel - Freeform, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 22:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12827469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla/pseuds/Cuda
Summary: Hungry to leave the taint of Azazel's blood - and his past as Lucifer's vessel - behind, once and for all, Sam turns to Castiel for help. There's only one complication: acceptance of what he's done. That might be a price too high, even for the possibility of redemption.





	By Water, Be Saved

Sam's thighs quivered, firing warning shots up his back as Castiel slammed into him like a freight train. They weren't gonna hold him up much longer.

His fingers scrabbled at the slick white porcelain under his chest, only succeeding in sweeping some church lady grandma's flower arrangement to the floor. Every thrust seemed to rattle the church right down to the foundations, trembling spangles in the water a few inches from Sam's nose. Nothing was gonna hold him up much longer; not the tub, not his legs, not his mind, and definitely not his ass, where an angel's cock had him speared like a roast on a spit.

"Christ calls you," Castiel hissed between his teeth on a thrust, "turn back, Sam Winchester."

His name rolled off Castiel's tongue as his cock pressed Sam's prostate. Sam gasped, belly clenched with a shudder at the thunder crack of sensation. It didn't qualify as 'pleasure,' not the way he counted it, in soft hands and slow mouths. Not to say it wasn't good. It was good. Fucking fantastic, even. Like teeth in his shoulder. Like eye-watering, mouth-burning curry. Endorphins filled his head and he was soaring.

Soaring, and splitting apart. Coming open at the deepest seams. Castiel drove into him, drove him against the foot of a baptismal font, relentless as a blizzard, and Sam let him.

"Answer it, Sam Winchester," Castiel was growling now, "The Light calls. Answer it. **ANSWER**." His tone shifted, darkened from a declaration to a command. Fear played havoc with Sam's senses, making the lights brighter, the sounds louder, his arousal even more intense. Good as it was, he couldn't quite swallow the terrified whimper in his chest. Terror that had nothing to do with the elemental fury fucking him senseless in a House of God.

Castiel heard it. The hand on Sam's hip hardened, while the other snatched a fistful of his hair. Castiel yanked back. Up. Close enough for Sam to feel breath in his ear. The wash of warmth came in panting gusts, and for a moment, every sound and motion quieted away but that.

"Lucifer is gone, Sam," Castiel said, fingers tighter in Sam's hair as if the thoughts that followed threatened him, "he will never have you again. The Dark holds no power over you."

"Cas, I can't," Sam protested, swallowing hard against the sharp pitch of his throat. He shook his head.

" **NO POWER** ," Castiel roared, rough and possessive. He seemed elemental, more animal than man in that moment. Of course he was, Sam thought. What was an angel? A ball of holy power and purpose, wild as a hurricane and violent as a hailstorm. Jammed by some nightmare or miracle into a man's shape. He saw everything that Sam was. He knew it all, from start to finish. The last skin of Sam's control peeled away in the panic and shame.

"I can't," Sam repeated, eyes watering.

A growl came from behind him, vibrating Sam with its force. "You are braver than this," Castiel snapped, "Accept the past. It will not take you back now."

But it could, Sam thought, it could. He could always end up back there. Once capable, always a risk. The only way to keep going was to shove it away, hard and far, and acceptance had no part in that. He turned his head, twisting in Castiel's iron grip, to meet one glowing blue eye. "You don't know that," he protested.

"I know who you are," Castiel said, impatient, "and I am with you. It won't take you, Sam."

Under Sam's splayed feet, the floorboards rattled. Memories of yesterday shoved past Castiel's presence, inside and out. It demanded to be seen, parading its bloody wounds before Sam's eyes like a fucked-up Jesus.

 

* * *

 

_"The Demon Trials purified you? Made you clean?" the demon mocked, laughing at Sam over Castiel's beaten body, "This shit is Hotel California, Sammy. Maybe you checked out for a few years, but you can feel it. It makes you a big, filthy animal, and you LIKE it."_

_The demon spit in Sam's face. Even weakened, Castiel had done a number on the demon, and his mouth was full of blood. The coppery red slurry hit Sam's chin and chest. "It's all there, babe," the demon purred, "take a fucking sip."_

 

* * *

 

"All that you are, and I am here," Castiel reminded him.

And that was worse, wasn't it? So much worse. Sam could lure an angel from his post, twist a holy rite into a lurid fuckfest. Undo everything with one selfish decision.

Castiel's teeth sank into Sam's shoulder. The pain burst and spiraled into arousal, and he groaned.

"Stop that," Castiel said, and took hold of Sam's cock.

Pleasure spurred Sam, pleasure he could name without hesitation. The motion resumed, hard tidal thrusts that rocked him against the edge of the baptismal font until the lip bruised his chest. He lost himself in it; dove into Castiel's hands and the thick, slick angel cock wedged inside him so tight he could feel the throb of Castiel's heartbeat. Sam seized on the distraction, grateful, and rode it.

But Castiel wasn't so ready to let it lie. He withdrew a moment later, hauled Sam up onto the ledge of the tub by the hips, and rolled into him once more.

"Release fear," Castiel breathed, dipping him back with a hand under his neck, "Sam. Put your hands on me."

The angel's eyes were stars; blue-white supernovas in miniature. Every fresh touch snapped with electricity. When Sam's fingers sifted into Castiel's hair, the lights above the baptismal font flickered.

The hand stayed, supporting his neck without wavering as Sam's head hung out over the water. He tipped his head back; felt the drag of the water's surface as his hair drowned in it. He didn't know when the curses shifted into moans, or when the rhythm took on a deeper warmth. But he felt the way he opened; knew the trembling gate in himself as one he shied from for a reason. He grabbed a double handhold in Castiel's hair, so tight his arms ached, and let it happen. Let the guilt and terror, the tearing grief rip out of him.

Castiel brought his head up, pulling him into his chest like a child. Sam moaned into him, tossed on sensation and emotion that dropped him with a haymaker straight up out of Hell.

 

* * *

 

  _The smell of copper intensified as Sam took the demon apart. By the end, begging replaced the mocking laughter, as the creature gagged for death with a throat full of blood._

_Its vessel had to be dead already, Sam told himself, with a dick like that riding him._

_Probably._

_And then Castiel's eyes opened, and they saw Sam first. Sam looked down at Castiel, and then at himself, hands and face painted in demon blood._

_Just like old times, Sam thought. He inhaled the smell of blood and evil memories, and began to shake._

 

* * *

 

"REPENT," Castiel commanded. Still with him. Oh, fuck, still with him. Climax burst and passed and Sam crumpled.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I let everyone down. I let you down. I'm not worth it, I can't do it, I need help, I--"

Everything, everywhere, stopped.

Castiel pulled out. Sam couldn't stop the noise he made at the burn of withdrawal. The emptiness left behind made his stomach lurch.

But Castiel pulled him close. "I'm here," he said, naked and warm, hands soft on Sam's shaking thighs. He stood like that, chest to chest and forehead to forehead, pressed between Sam's knees. Sam realized he wasn't the only one trembling. Castiel's skin felt fevered under his hands.

"Come with me," Castiel said eventually, and helped Sam down from the edge of the tub. He brought them to the side of the font. A short, narrow stairwell took them up, and then down, into the floodlit water. Herbs floated on the surface, the crushed bitter spice of them in Sam's nose. Light spangles licked up his bare skin.

"Will this work?" Sam asked.

Castiel volleyed question for question. "Do you believe it will?"

"We're not… desecrating holy ground by being here, are we?"

They stepped over the ledge of the font and into the water. Sam felt it take his weight as the level reached his waist.

"What about this makes you concerned about desecration?" Castiel asked, looking up at Sam. His eyes were still blue-white, and Sam could see a faint red glow inside his chest.

He closed his eyes. "You know why."

"I really don't, Sam," Castiel said, "if I thought our presence might disturb this church's sanctity, I would not have brought you here."

"Lucifer's vessel? C'mon, Cas," Sam replied, "I'm surprised this water isn't boiling right now."

Castiel's annoyance could have filled the whole sanctuary, with some leftover to puddle in the narthex. "So you haven't truly repented."

"How many times do I have to say--"

"It's not about saying you're sorry, Sam!" Castiel snapped.

 

* * *

 

_"If you truly want this, there's a spell," Castiel muttered, like the words had to be dragged out of him._

_Sam lifted his head from his hands. He saw Castiel across the room and miles away, face battered and bruised, hands deep in his pockets. Watching Sam. Wary._

_"A holy cleansing," Castiel continued, "you already know one part of it."_

_"Which is?" Sam prodded._

_"Baptism. But there are rules. And a price."_

_There was always a price. Sam sat back. "Tell me."_

_"True repentance."_

 

* * *

 

There was nothing to say. It wouldn't work, Sam realized. He could never dig the sins out of his soul. Not with a spell. That kind of pipe dream was the desperation talking.

"It's about a fresh start. It's about understanding that you can't go on alone," Castiel persisted, turning to face Sam, to block his view of the exit, "and asking for aid."

Sam stared at him.

"I love you, Sam," Castiel continued, "I went through with this ritual for that. Things got," his eyes faded to their normal blue and dropped, flicking up a moment later with resolve, "out of control earlier. I know you'll never truly forgive yourself for the things you've taken responsibility for. It's part of why I love you. You want a better world. But that kind of work; it's not a solo act."

As he processed this, Sam felt several things. The first was betrayal. "So this isn't a purification spell at all," he laughed, fists curling under the water, "it was you messing with my head again."

Castiel's expression crumpled. "Why--why would you think that?"

"I don't know, why did you fuck me into a wall to make me a better team player?" Sam countered. His voice was ugly, and he watched the barbs hit one bullseye after another. Castiel backed up to the steps leading into the bath. When he could go no further, he sat, submerged to the shoulders.

"You wanted me to touch you," Castiel said, face stage lit by the water's glow, "when you said you couldn't go through with it, you asked me to--you felt untouchable; you said. I lost my temper with you. I lost control. So I reached for you without thinking, and you--"

Backing up to the opposite corner, Sam scrubbed his face with wet hands. "Yeah, I wanted you, Cas, don't worry about that," he said, "I wanted a distraction."

"Because you were AFRAID," Castiel retorted. The words weren't a shout, but somehow carried all the way to the back of the sanctuary, and forward again for another round. "You never ask for forgiveness because you expect to be told 'no.'"

Castiel's shoulders slumped. "So I brought you to my Father's house to prove you worthy. The spell is real. It's a cleansing - an energy cleansing. But you never needed purification."

Because he was a lost cause, Sam thought.

"Because you're not sullied," Castiel growled, who must have overheard, "it doesn't work like that, no matter what the demons claim to the contrary."

The words made Sam rear back. He turned, not quite able - not quite willing - to look Castiel in the face. That couldn't be right. "I'm an abomination," Sam argued, "you said so yourself."

A long pause followed. The silence drew Sam's attention to Castiel eventually, whose head was so low, his nose nearly brushed the water's surface.

"I was wrong," Castiel said, and looked up, "I was wrong about a number of things, particularly you. I should not have said that, and I am sorry. Sam, when I-- when I broke you. When you were searching for your soul. What did you see?"

"A fucked up wreck," Sam replied, almost before Castiel finished speaking.

"But did it feel evil to you? True evil has touched you," Castiel said with a nod, eyes down again, "you know what it is."

Sam leaned back against the edge of the tub, arms crossed. Going back to that place made him feel exposed. But the hunger drove him; the question too tempting to ignore. His soul felt broken, felt mangled - not evil. But if he'd been fed demon blood before his earliest memories, how would Sam know the difference?

"I don't know," Sam said.

Castiel sighed. "Even if you were corrupted, the sins levied against you by Heaven should more than account for your own. We've driven you to this place, with words and deeds. Sam, your soul is clean. All this," a single hand lifted from the water, taking in the whole of the church and the ritual detritus with a gesture, "was to help you believe that."

And Sam wanted to get there. Dear God, he wanted to get there so bad he could scream. His instincts all but shoved him to believe Castiel. But his instincts told him the Trials were purifying him. And look at what a cock-up that turned out to be. They ripped him inside out, shredded him so bad that Dean let Gadreel squat inside him like a virus, just to keep him breathing.

And he hadn't finished them. He'd failed those, too.

"You know the awful shit I've pulled, Cas," Sam argued, "how can a good person torture someone to death out of revenge - even a demon?"

Castiel huffed. "A 'good person,' and a clean soul are different things," he said, fingers popping out of the water to form air quotes. "But if you require perspective, I'm a soldier of God. I was commanded to kill in my Father's stead."

"That's different," Sam protested.

"I've also personally enjoyed decapitating people, when they've threatened you or annoyed me. And I used my vessel to engage in selfish, sexual acts - albeit Jimmy is no longer present. By human morality, I'm not a 'good person.'" Castiel's eyes caught Sam's and held them. "Do you think I'm good?"

"Of course I do," Sam replied, "sure, you've screwed up, but you try like hell to do the right thing. You've saved our asses, and not just us - lots of people."

Castiel's eyes flashed. "I would define you with the same words."

Sam's stomach bobbed. He unfolded his arms, casted around restlessly for a way out of the pool. When Castiel continued to block the exit, Sam squatted, submerged up to his neck.

"Yeah, well, my definition isn't the one on trial here."

He heard the swish and bubble of liquid, as Castiel's body pushed slowly through the short distance between them. Sam kept his eyes down, until he saw a pair of open, offered hands slide into the water in front of him.

"You deserve to be saved, Sam," Castiel's voice was hushed, gone from the resonant command of a captain to the whisper of a lover, "but generally, the most successful rescues are a team effort. You aren't alone."

So the same old, unusable stuff, then. Sam closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and dug down deep for a leftover smile. It was game over. Time to let this go.

"And if your best isn't enough for my Father's sense of justice," Castiel added, voice harder, "He will answer to me. Personally. Heaven will open for you, or I will make it."

A shocked, wet laugh burst out of Sam's chest. He took Castiel's hands beneath the water, and buried his face in the angel's stomach. His own belly, tensed for the punch that never came, released with a surge of relief that was almost nausea. It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't absolution. But if he couldn't bring himself to ask for those things, he had company.

"Or we will make our own," Castiel went on, fiercely, "I won't let them take you, Sam. You're--"

Sam, breathing in rags and tatters, yanked on Castiel's hands. He promptly toppled into Sam, pushing them both underwater with an impressive splash. Castiel came up first, spluttering, but Sam folded him up in his arms before he could react. Wet chunks of herbs clung to their skins like grass clippings, rolling under Sam's hands as he stroked Castiel's shoulders and squeezed the back of his neck.

"I get it, Cas," Sam laughed, "look, is this enough? Does this count or do you actually have to dip me?"

Castiel went still in his arms. His eyes squeezed with suspicion, looking into Sam like the truth was written on the backs of his eye sockets.

"You're sure," Castiel said.

"I'm sure."

"You understand the terms."

"Cas," Sam sighed, "just do it."

The water brightened, refracting Castiel's glow into a thousand spangles. The angel stood, cupping the back of Sam's neck, and urged him to lean back in the water with murmured words of Latin.

Sam felt the water close over his head one more time. An electric surge of heat shot through him, and the world past his closed eyelids glowed.

" _Et in novam vitam_ ," Castiel commanded, as Sam burst to the surface again, " _resurgemus_."

After a pause, Sam chuckled. "I think that's supposed to end, ' _per Christum Dominum nostrum_.'"

Castiel smiled, intimate as a kiss, and curled a finger beneath Sam's chin. "I'm flattered," he said, "But not quite."

**Author's Note:**

> I was pointed towards [this post](http://azazelsocks.tumblr.com/post/167560822207/its-not-that-i-dont-appreciate-how-absurdly) from Azazelsocks by a friend of mine, and this story started taking shape.


End file.
